I Will Not Forget That I Have Forgotten
by Draenog Glas Memorial
Summary: Sonic becomes only a nameless hero that stopped this great war of Rome, but Amy sends his heart and soul on a sailboat to Mt. Olympus. Sonic faces strange challenges and strange people, but will he ever become a hero on Mt. Olympus? SCRAPPED.
1. Chapter 1

**NOTES: Story was discontinued due to lack of ideas and I've actually wrote the second chapter to it a long time ago, but you can tell that I honestly didn't know where I was going with it at all because it's definitely not something that belongs to a story all about Greek gods and heroes and actually plays out too much like a child's story. I really didn't had very many ideas to start with and only wrote this story on a whim to be honest. So the story will remain here in the memorial unless I do get a lot of support from people believing I should continue to work on it (which isn't really necessary and I highly doubt it will happen, especially with how terribly the next chapter plays out.)**

**You may review this story if you wish, but please note that I probably won't work on it again unless I somehow get some revelation for it or I get support whatever which, so all of these stories that are in the memorial are marked as "Complete" because I am planning on not touching them for a long time. **

The war has been won, but some of this world's greatest heroes, were lost.

A woman lost her husband, aged 27, in this war, and she couldn't stop crying on the news of his death. More and more women were told on the deaths of their husbands, sons, brothers, and they always shed tears when they heard the news. So many tears were gathered that day; they thought they could make a whole new ocean with them on the thousands, millions of the lives these women would no longer see. They never really told them goodbye, and that made them cry the biggest tears. They felt they didn't spend enough time with them. They felt they never kissed them before they left, unaware on how many lives this war machine would take. But death happens the least you expect it, and that's what gives it its most devastating effect. You met this man on the street a day ago, then you watch the news and you find out the very next day the man died of a sudden heart attack. And you say to yourself, "Damn, I just met him yesterday. I could've at least listened to his life story, to hear about his family and job and maybe warn him that he was possibly going to get that heart attack, but he's dead now." But Death will never let you know of your loved ones before they're dead. Or complete strangers. That's what makes his job so appealing to him. And maybe he's going to come after you. Who knows? He wants you to learn about your life after all, and learn of your regrets. That's why Death takes pride in his job, as he reaps the many souls that are destined to go into the Underworld, where the dark lord Hades and his many demon servants, reign. He works all day in his Soul Farm, reaping all those souls, and no matter how much you beg and cry to let you go back into the world of the Living, he decides that maybe you're a candidate to the Underworld, and off you went, to meet Hades and see his grinning wide-toothed puppy Cerberus, who was born with a slight malfunction: it had three heads. And was about twenty feet high. And his mouth can devour you whole if he wanted to. But it was under Hades' strict orders that he behaved himself around the new guests, or else he would get swatted with a newspaper. The guests were always surprised when this dog was scared of something as harmless to them as newspaper. _Why, that's something I read everyday, and this gigantic dog is scared of that? Why yes, I do agree that the Politics section is quite scary, in fact, I skip it entirely! No one wants to hear of those crooked politicians with no heart and soul! _Well, don't worry about that too much dearie, because they're going to become new guests in the Underworld. Very soon might I add.

This story isn't as dark as it really sounds, however. I might actually differ that it's quite "cheery" and "uplifting", but I never really liked those kinds of stories, but I'm sure the author told you that if you liked those kinds of stories you would be here, isn't that right? Well I'm afraid you're right. No one wants to hear dreary stories all the time. In fact, I'm afraid one of us might have picked up a Nora Roberts book from time to time to read something cheesy and uplifting. Well, let me begin by another path in this story. I only told you about the wives and Death and the Underworld to let you know a little about this story's background. Why yes, you would know that's supposed to be an element of "storytelling", and those kids who I would tell campfire stories to would always say I smelled like moldy fish and my stories sucked and I might as well tell them the story about the apes jumping on the bed or some nonsense. The stories we tell children these days have no substance, no character, but maybe you would say the same about this story. Because I, after all, smell of moldy fish.

We begin this story with one of those wives. Her name was Amy Emilia Rose, who was a pink hedgehog. Now, why would I tell you a story about a pink hedgehog? Am I smelling of moldy fish again? Well, even though she was an anthropomorphic animal, she went through the same ordeal these wives went through: the tale of how their husband died tragically in this war, and they shed those tears. Boohoo. If only anyone cared about me these days…but I simply avoided the war by faking my death. And no one mourned for me.

Oh, I'm sorry, are we off-topic, dearie? Well, her husband was a valiant warrior, and with his strength and courage, he managed to defeat the War Machine and everything was all right and peaches again. Unfortunately, he died, with a sword pierced through his chest. He bled to death, before anyone noticed how much pain and suffering he was in. But the pain and suffering didn't matter much to him. He fought bravely in this war. And that was all that really mattered to him.

She loved her husband dearly. She even did the usual kissing him before he went out to the war, wishing him good luck, and praying to Athena that he would come back home alive. But Athena is a cruel-hearted bitch, I assume. He died with a sword through his chest, and he couldn't even scream. There was a pool of blood around him, and he choked. And when Amy learned of the truth of how he really died, she cried even harder. And she vowed on this day that she would always remember Sonic for his bravery and valor, and that she would make a plea with the gods that he would arrive to Mt. Olympus safely.

She then did something peculiar, something that many of you would tell her that simply wouldn't work.

She went to her room on her simple little brown desk, got out her writing pen and a slip of paper, and she wrote a letter to Sonic, even though he was considered dead:

_Dear Sonic (My Love),_

_I have heard that you died on the battlefield, and you fought valiantly. But when I heard of the news, I was devastated. I cried so many tears that day. I even wished that they were only playing a cruel joke on me and that you would come back someday. But I will bring you back to life, becoming a soul, anyways, and I wanted to plea with the gods to make you a hero worthy of respecting on Mt. Olympus. _

_I made a simple paper sailboat, and I attached a small lantern that will light your path while you journey through the seas. It will be a dangerous journey Sonic, the gods will test you, but I believe you can do this. Your sail will be small at first, but then you will grow larger as you traverse the seas, and your paper boat will become as big as the mighty galleons we would see sometimes in the mornings. And maybe you'll have others who will help you on your journey, and you'll see so many things and you'll face things you never faced before. But I believe in you Sonic My Love, and I'm sure you can reach Mount Olympus and be a constellation in the night sky. And then I will always see you at night, and I will always be reminded of all the good and loving times we had together. I will let you name your sailboat any name you please, but please choose wisely, as maybe the gods will laugh at how silly your name sounds. The gods can be cruel people, but if I can play their cards right…maybe we can make them…less cruel._

_I will be waiting for you, under the night sky on a lone little green hill that kind of looks like it has checkerboards on it. It's such a strange little pattern on it, but you would always say that it was your favorite place to be._

_And no matter how convincing he sounds, PLEASE never listen to Hades. Once you sign that contract with him, you're his forever, and I certainly don't want you to live that fate. Hades is possibly the cruelest god, and you cannot go to the Underworld, no matter how tough these challenges seem to be._

_And remember: I will always believe in you._

_Love,_

_Amy Emilia Rose_

_P.S. Watch out for Charybdis. Please. It's a monster that awaits you near the end of the Sea of Misery. It's going to take everything you have to defeat him. Don't get too cocky._

And she folded the letter into a small, neat little square, small enough for the brave little Sonic that was going to sail this mighty sea, and fashioned her other piece of paper into a sailboat. Her origami skills were a little rusty, but it was still quite a nice sailboat. One that looked like it could brave through the farthest shores. It looked more like one of those sailor hats really, but it was alright, it would still travel just fine, and she hoped maybe Sonic would make it bigger, into that galleon that she thought she only saw in dreams.

And she took a match and lit the small lantern, put it inside the sailboat, watching as the flame gleamed in the light. And it looked like it would clear away even the thickest fog. The glass behind the lantern began to glow a brilliant ruby color, and she took care to put it inside the sailboat, as she knew now his soul was inside it. She could feel his heart beating again, just for a moment, as she lifted the sailboat and traveled to the beaches.

She went to the shores of Napoli, and before she sent the sail drifting away in the Adriatic Sea, she kissed it, and it felt like it would even heal the most hurt of hearts.

The sail drifted away, into the distant fog, and she prayed silently that he would return, or else she might as well have been sent to the Underworld, along with Persephone. Nothing would wake her up more to see her husband back again. If he wasn't here…she wouldn't know what to do. She might as well have sold her soul to Hades just to bring him back to this world.

She could still see the sail's flickering light as it cut through the fog, and through all those nights, she would always dream of Sonic and his small sail that would journey through the Adriatic Sea, into the Mt. Olympus, and she wished she could see him in the stars that night soon, so she prayed to that goddess so far away, who was possibly smiling upon him that night…

And he awoke.

He awoke after so many years, with such a strange pain in his chest that he knew he couldn't stop and wouldn't stop, but he awoke that day without that pain, and he thought the whole thing was peculiar. Maybe the gods have chosen him. Or maybe they were playing a cruel joke.

He found himself on the dock of a ship, one that seemed white all around. He wondered if he was on a boat made with ivory, the boat that would take heroes like him to Mt. Olympus, but as he felt it, he could only feel that the boat was made with something much flimsier, something like paper, as it crinkled at the reeling of his hands. He could smell the sea's salty air and could even taste it in his lips, something that he rarely tasted or smelt, when only him and Amy went out to the shore.

He could smell smoke too, as a thin black wave of singed air came out of the lantern. It was shining bright, glowing red all around the sail, feeling his heart beating again and to see everything stir to life and when he felt all these new sensations, he could only sit back and smile. He was alive. For now. But for now was still a good time to enjoy his life while it ran in that lantern, the flame flickering and full of hearth as it kindled near him.

He saw the small note beside the lantern, wondering if it was some sort of note they gave him, a reason why he was here, a reason why his flesh and fur was here again, and it seemed to be kept clean and not full of blood and wounds.

He unfolded the note, seeing that it wasn't a tiny letter, but a full handwritten letter, a letter that he could tell was in his wife's handwriting. He was careful to have the paper read without feeding the fire and the water.

And he read it, discovering that Amy made him take this challenge of the gods, to make himself a constellation on the night sky. Amy was always a little…"devoted" he would say, but it was a challenge that he could take up. He thought on all his days he worked he was one of the fastest in this land, even as fast as Hercules and Achilles, and maybe he would soon outrun the fastest of those gods, and all he could think on all these challenges, was that he didn't think it would even be called a "challenge".

And he smiled.

As he found out that he was only small ("but I'll be big enough, soon enough!" he said to himself), and his sailboat was small as well, he whispered the name of the boat clearly to the lantern, and the name was chosen.

The White Rose.

And Sonic didn't notice, and if I didn't tell you you wouldn't notice it either, but Zeus handwrote the name on the sailboat with such nice cursive handwriting, and that was its new name, and the gods began to talk about this newbie hero trying to join them, and of the White Rose that sailed on that foggy, moonless night.

And the White Rose was small, but the children saw the sailboat drifting by as they played their games of catch, and saluted whatever spirit was inside it, as they knew a sailboat with a lantern inside it was possibly a spirit or an offering to the gods. They didn't know anything about that spirit, even if the older ones told them about the Great War that happened a while ago, as Sonic was only nothing but a nameless hero, and he only saw the children for a brief glance before he fell asleep again. He wasn't even sure what the children were doing on such an odd hour of the night anyways…but he was tired, even if he slept for so long after that war, and the boat continued on westward, straight to the first challenge the gods gave him…a strange, but still difficult (despite whatever he would think of this fellow), challenge.

And the children got their horns from their pockets, and began playing their songs, as they danced with their horns growing from their bodies and their legs becoming hooves and they grew furry tails, and they laughed and played their tunes and talked of this White Rose. They were uncertain of it becoming more than a passing story, but secretly, they were rooting for the young hero, as they used to be young themselves, and they were full of fur too, so they could relate.

**Note: Really went through struggling writing this and I might edit the hell out of it cause I'm just not really proud of it…I will need to do research for this particular type of story, so I might not work on it for a while. I will work on it periodically, and maybe only make it five chapters or so? I'm not exactly sure just yet, but this was the only idea for the story I had for now…**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: The Challenge of Whiskers the Bullfrog**

Sonic slept for a long time, possibly for about a healthy amount of sleep a hedgehog could get, before he met a very peculiar character. One he didn't imagine the gods could bring him around to do a challenge for them.

Now, let me tell you a little about that character. His name was Whiskers the Bullfrog. He doesn't have whiskers, yet why he was called that, no one truly knows. He thought it would be a good name to confuse people. That's what his mother said when she gave him that nickname. A well-known fact about his mother: she was crazy, and she was dead.

Whiskers sometimes passed the time by playing a saxophone, something that Sonic barely knew what that was. It's a musical instrument that was usually too expensive for you to purchase, and it's not really used so much anymore. Except for people like Whiskers, who even though played the saxophone badly, still thought he was pretty cool playing it, daddy-o.

Yes, he was one of those kinds of people. He also had no job, no money, or well, he got some by playing his saxophone next to this bar, and people thought he was deaf and retarded, so they gave him money. It was enough money, always, to get himself a cup of coffee and a doughnut. And that was all he ever feasted on for two months. So he was also quite overweight, a heavy smoker, and he could barely play his saxophone before going into coughing and wheezing fits. And he usually got more money every time he gagged.

This club he was near was called Club Risotto. It even had heavy prices on coffee and doughnuts and only lousy hipster poets came in, with their lousy hipster poetry and their lousy hipster clothes and their lousy hipster glasses and their lousy hipster views on art and literature. The money they also made was never very good. It was enough to buy two cups of coffee in the club. But yet Whiskers hated them. He hated anyone who made more money than him. He gagged when he thought about it. He never gagged when his mother always bought him things when he was a child, with only his nickels and dimes, however. Whiskers was also lazy and as his crazy and dead mother would say, "irresponsible".

And he laughed and croaked and gagged and spat out some phlegm that might as well just told him he had lung cancer. He made this horrible gagging noise every morning that got all the club members annoyed, but they never could get him away from here. He was poor anyways, and stupid. What the hell could this poor bastard do?

Sonic found more glowing lights, golden and melting like honey, coming in his distance. He noticed there were Lilly pads beside him and the ship, drifting away with blue crystal lights that swayed in the night air. He could see that it was no longer foggy, and the moon was out now, and when the moon was out, some blood of people's and animals' would boil, and they would come out and have some fun. Dance. Party. Wreck things. You know, the usual nighttime stuff. Or you could be like a wolf and eat the farmer's sheep every night. Some people were like that. They came to the night like a wolf and they were too full in the morning to do anything. Very many people today, maybe you know them, and the writer is like this, we all know those kinds of people. But the night is a strange time, and even Sonic knew that too. And he wasn't expecting to find a nighttime poetry club right in the middle of this sea he was sailing on, and a frog that coughed and wheezed as the saxophone belted out terrible and horrible ear-retching melodies.

He could hear the hipsters singing their hipster poetry, and the people slurping coffee and the bullfrog playing his saxophone. He thought this place looked kind of like an asylum, except none of the people here had any talents or were creative at all. They were just as insane as them, however, as one man began to screech about how the tires of a car were too round and the dogs were too brown and how this infuriated him so, even if it made no absolute sense whatsoever. He was just doped up on his medicine and the medicine made the chemicals in his brain malfunction, and he ranted and raved and people paid considerably well for it, because they were stupid and crazy too. Whiskers thought so as well. None of these people had as much talent as he did. No one could play the saxophone as well as him.

His voice was loud and brassy, like the Big Ben ringing thunderously when an hour has passed, when Sonic docked his boat and approached the Madness Corner, and Whiskers patted him on the back and said, "_Boy oh howdy_, welcome sir Sonic to Club Risotto! I've been waiting for you in this exact spot, _oh how I waited_ for you for so long, daddy-o! You must be _so tired_ in your voyage, maybe you can stay a while, drink some coffee, have a cinnamon bun, listen to the trash that's sputtering garbage." He meant the hipsters.

"I never met you in my life. How did you know my name? Are you a stalker of mine or something?" Sonic scratched his head in confusion.

"Stalker? _No way, Sonic-o! _I actually have something important for you headed inside the club, one that tells you your destiny, why you're in that boat, _the whole shebang_. And maybe you would like to hear my great saxophone to calm your nerves, hm? I'm the best saxophone player in this whole place, if I say so myself! I won so many awards for my mastery, and maybe you can listen to the smooth butter of my tunes, that will melt right into your ear!"

He lied, of course. He was actually the only saxophone player in the club. There was another, named Garfunkel Funk, but he died of a heart attack long before Whiskers came onto the scene with his mediocre playing. He did won awards though. Simply because he threw a fit when he was a child in those saxophone contests and they gave him some meaningless awards to shut him up. He still has those trophies in his briefcase, and won't listen to anyone who tells him that those "don't count".


End file.
